8 of Spades
by skitzzy
Summary: Kurt Hummel met expert con-artist Blaine Anderson six years ago, when he was whisked away with a card trick and the mysterious curl of a smile.


_A warning: I don't know French and I don't know how bank accounts work. I also abuse commas a lot. This fic was vaguely inspired by the film "The Brothers Bloom". It's a one shot for now, but I have ideas for a multi chapter fic depending on if I feel like writing it or not. Thanks for reading._

It was late November and a gust of wind blew into the city, leaving behind goose bumps, pinked cheeks, and chapped lips. It skimmed across the surface of the Seine, blew leaves down the street, and crept inside coats.

Kurt shivered as the cold stroked his inner wrists and the skin behind his ears. He wrapped his wool coat around himself and leaned against the wall, harsh red brick brushing across his shoulders. A long cigarette hung between his fingers, grey smoke billowing into the air. He was a tall, lanky sort of thing, with a delicate white neck, bowed lips, and eyes that were hidden behind big, round sunglasses. On his head was a long wig, dark as lacquered Rosewood, that swung down his shoulders and curved around his neck. Kurt took a slow, luxurious drag of smoke, leaving behind a dark scarlet ring of lipstick on his cigarette, which he passed to Blaine. Blaine stood next to him with his back slouched and arms crossed against his chest. He peered over his shades, one thick black eyebrow raised, as he took it from him and lifted it up to his lips.

He took a long, deep drag and exhaled through his nose before he threw the smoke on the ground and crushed it with one gleaming, Italian patent leather shoe.

"He's right there," He nodded.

Across the street, a businessman in a navy blue suit sat on a bench with a suitcase in his lap. He had a cell phone glued to his ear, and a scowl on his face.

Kurt gave Blaine a wry smile, "Let's get this over with."

"The sooner, the better, I'm getting bored with France already," Blaine replied and sank further into the shade that grew darker and darker down the length of the alleyway.

"We haven't been here that long," Kurt said, his eyes flitting between the man and Blaine.

It was only their second week in Paris and Kurt was still acclimating himself to the culture and language he admired as a teenager. The last time Kurt had been in France was years ago when he wandered the city in his wispy red scarf, ate macarons in the Champs-Élysées, and walked around the Louvre at night, when lights lit up the structure in a romantic haze of yellow. An American tourist alone in the city of love.

Blaine smirked, his lips curling up slickly into his face. There was something disarmingly handsome about Blaine- he was compact and sinewy, with sharp hazel eyes that would make Kurt blush to his chagrin.

" I know how much you love this city, but two weeks is too long, especially for a con at this level," he started, "we need to wrap this up and get the hell out of here. I have something new planned."

"Right."

Blaine reached into his pocket and pulled out a tube of lipstick.

"Here you go darling, let me fix your mouth up."

He took off Kurt's glasses, grasped Kurt's chin with his long fingers, and slid the tip of his thumb of in the seam of Kurt's mouth, before dragging it down his lower lip slowly. There was an unspoken intensity between them, a tension that they never addressed, never did anything about.

There was a moment when they were in Thailand, when Blaine had been stabbed by a dagger after a hustle with a gang member gone wrong. They had been arguing hours before, an inane fight where Blaine had joked about Kurt looking like a hooker in one of his many disguises. But now, a red blossom bloomed on his shoulder, a streak of blood slid across his clavicle and into the hollow where the bones ended. It wasn't the first time Blaine had been injured, but Kurt had cried. He had pressed his face into Blaine's neck, let his tears drip down his cheeks, and whispered into his skin, soft words and the taste of salt in his mouth. There was something in that moment; something that pulled deep inside of him that suddenly let him know that Blaine was _it_ for him. He was his anchor, the only one he had trusted for the past six years. He couldn't lose Blaine, couldn't let it all end on a sour note. He never said it, but he had moved his hands to Blaine's face, and pressed his lips against Blaine's. _I'm sorry. I was stupid. We were stupid._He could feel Blaine's heartbeat under his skin, his body moving up and down slowly as he breathed, the heady taste of iron in his mouth. When Kurt pulled away, Blaine smiled, his mouth red with blood. He reached behind Kurt's ear, and pulled away a silver quarter dollar before he spoke, voice weak, "How much do I owe you sweet thing?" And Kurt gently pushed him in the shoulder and laughed while he cried. The sound of wheels crushing gravel cut through the air outside and Kurt grasped Blaine's hand, traced the lines in his palms, as the ambulance arrived.

Blaine stared in Kurt's eyes for a moment instant before he looked away and gently pressed the lipstick against Kurt's mouth. When he was done, he took his hand away and Kurt's face felt cold, the heat of Blaine's body gone from his.

"How do I look?" Kurt asked, breaking the silence between them.

Blaine had moved back to his spot against the wall.

"Good enough to eat kitten," he smiled wolfishly and Kurt knew the moment between them was over.

Kurt nodded and unbuttoned the buttons on the front of his coat. Underneath, he was wearing a little silk slip that bared his long coltish legs. It was a muted pomegranate and it clung to his narrow hips. The wind picked up and sent a shiver down his spine, goosebumps dotting his skin.

"Wish me luck," Kurt looked over his shoulder.

Blaine waved towards him before reaching in his coat and producing a stack of playing cards. He fiddled with the deck in his hands, completely engrossed.

And then it was time. Kurt schooled his face and watched the flow of traffic down the walkway. People huddled in groups together, with paper shopping bags in their hands. Just a few meters away a woman pushed a stroller while she grasped a toddler's hand. She looked frazzled, and her eyes were on her child rather than the sidewalk. There was a small dip in the ground, the perfect size for a heel to get caught in. On the other side of the walk, the businessman was still on his phone. Kurt saw his chance and waited for her to come closer.

He held his breath and stepped into the middle of the walkway.

"Excusez moi!" The woman called and Kurt stumbled clumsily to the side to move out of the way.

As planned, his shoe got caught in the small pit in the ground, and he found himself falling face forward until he was on his knees. He braced his hands on the bench in front of him, his head on the businessman's lap.

"Roxanne?" The man asked.

Kurt lifted his head and looked away, allowing a pink blush to spread across his cheeks. He was lanky and smarmy looking, with a head of blonde hair.

He smiled condescendingly when Kurt didn't reply.

"Don't be shy darling," He spoke in French, "How are you?"

Kurt had to suppress himself from rolling his eyes, but he played along.

"Oh Luc, I'm so clumsy. But I'm better now that I'm with you," Kurt slipped effortlessly into French. He had worked on his accent for years, so much so that he could easily pass as a local.

The man smiled, satisfied with himself. He grabbed Kurt's hands and helped him up. His eyes were all over Kurt, on his legs and on his chest, where Kurt's fake breasts sat underneath his slip.

"Did you miss me pretty girl?"

"Yes," Kurt spoke shyly.

"Where's the necklace I gave you?" he asked.

"I must have left it at home," Kurt lied.

It was in Blaine's suitcase, ready to be pawned off before they got back to the states. The necklace was ostentatious and hideously gaudy, a huge chain of gold dripping with diamonds. But it was ridiculously expensive, and when he had presented it to Blaine, Blaine had cackled with glee, dollar signs in his eyes, and picked Kurt up by the waist, twirling him around in the air. Kurt could remember the fast beat of his heart and the beautiful smile on Blaine's face. He loved it when Blaine laughed.

"You look beautiful," he kissed Kurt's hand, "let me take you out to dinner today, my favorite restaurant, and then you can visit my apartment. Stay with me for the night. A girl like you isn't safe by herself in the city."

He wrapped his arm around Kurt's waist and pulled him close to him. Kurt could smell his expensive cologne, so strong it made his head ache. Then, he felt something slip into his hand. A crisp €500 banknote.

He began to lead Kurt away from the bench. Away from Blaine.

"Wait!" Kurt interjected and they stopped, "How about I give you a little something before we go?"

He grinned and Kurt pulled him back towards the alleyway.

"You naughty little thing," Luc laughed and pushed Kurt against the wall.

They were engulfed in the shadows and the spot Blaine was before was empty.

Luc trapped Kurt with his arms and pressed his heavy torso into Kurt's figure. His hands grasped Kurt's bare thigh and his crotch pressed against Kurt's pelvis. He was hard beneath his pants and he was everywhere, his scent, his fingers, his hot breath on Kurt's neck. He pushed a strand of hair away and kissed Kurt's bare shoulder.

Kurt giggled and let Luc trail kisses up his shoulder to the column of his throat, resisting the nausea that spread inside of him.

"Hold on," Kurt stopped him and wrapped his arms around his neck, "before we do anything, "Kurt flushed and looked to the side coquettishly, "I need you to kiss me."

Luc took Kurt's chin in his hand and gazed into Kurt's eyes. There was a dark, predatory look in his eyes.

"Of course sweetheart."

He leaned in and kissed Kurt. Kurt felt like vomiting; Luc's lips were hot and wet and forceful. He slid his hand on Luc's face to slow him down, gently stroked his cheek, and sighed into his mouth before pulling away. Luc gasped for air. It was quiet between them before Kurt stared at Luc with a far away gaze in his eyes.

"This sounds crazy but...I think I'm in love with you," He whispered.

Luc's mouth dropped, but Kurt kept speaking.

"We've only known each other for two weeks now, but the time I've spent with you has been amazing. Don't you feel it between us? The sparks? Steal me away, take me home, make me yours."

"I...I think I love you too," Luc replied, "I think I'm going insane, but that kiss, the time you whispered to me under the stars. I felt it- no woman's made me feel that way before."

Kurt smiled. Everything was falling into place.

"I'll run away for you, become reformed. Never go back to my life as an escort. I can be your little housewife. Cook, clean, make love to you whenever you want."

Luc beamed, it was too good to be true.

"_Ma chérie,_you are the most incredible woman," He grabbed Kurt by the waist and pushed his forehead against his, pathetically lovesick.

"I never knew I could love a man like you, but you've proved me wrong."

Luc pushed Kurt back against the wall and panted, "Let me fuck you here darling."

"Yes," Kurt breathed and began to undo Luc's tie.

But before he could go any further, the unmistakable sound of the cock of a gun silenced them both. Suddenly, it grew tense. The hairs on the back of Luc's neck rose and he stumbled before letting go of Kurt. Kurt fell back against the wall and used it to support himself as his knees shook in fear. Luc froze, and slowly raised both his arms in the air.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" A man stood on the other side of the alleyway with a gun in his hand. His face was obscured by a black ski mask, with holes for his eyes and mouth. Against the black fabric, the white of his sharp teeth gleamed in the sunlight that streamed into the alleyway. He twirled his revolver in his hand, "A rich bastard and his whore. How charming."

"W-what do you want?!" Luc tried to sound brave, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him. Behind him Kurt, shrank into himself.

"Now, now calm down," The man paused, smiled briefly, and then and used his empty hand to reach into his pocket and pull out a set of cards, "Why don't you pick a card?"

"W-what?" Luc asked, incredulously.

"Pick a card."

"What's your angle here?"

"Can't a guy just do a little magic trick for a pal of his? I've been practicing for a while now. Humor me."

"Look, just let us go and I'll give you wh-"

"Pick. A. Fucking. Card!" The man yelled, venom in his voice.

Then he breathed in deeply, and shook his head, "Excuse me, sometimes I get riled up a little," he chuckled, "I'm not very patient. Pick a card will you?"

"Do what he says," Kurt pleaded Luc weakly.

Luc walked forward, arms still raised, and took a card with quivering fingers.

"Look at it. Do you remember what it is?"

"Y-yes I do."

"Now show it to her."

Luc moved the card towards Kurt and Kurt nodded, "Got it," he smiled at their attacker timidly.

"Good. Put it back in the stack."

Luc did as he was told. The man shuffled the stack and closed his eyes.

"Was it," He traced his fingers along the stack and presented them a card, "A five of diamonds?"

"N-no."

"Oh," He pouted, "Maybe I do need more practice."

Luc laughed anxiously.

"Shut up," the man interrupted him, the mirth in his voice was gone.

Luc immediately stopped laughing. There was a shift in the atmosphere. The jokes were over.

"Here's what's going to happen," He started, "First you're going to hand over the suitcase and get out your cellphone."

Luc dropped his suitcase and reached into his hand slowly for his phone.

"You," The man motioned toward Kurt,"Bring the case to me."

"Do as he says," Luc said. His voice trembled.

Kurt's hands shook as he did as he was told.

"Next, you're going to wire two million Euros to this bank account," He took out a scrap of paper, "Do you understand?"

Luc nodded and the man tossed him the paper. He pressed the barrel of the revolver to Kurt's forehead now.

"Try anything funny, and the bitch gets shot, and don't even think about calling the police. The account's untraceable."

Luc fumbled with his phone, and the man watched him closely. He cried as he typed into his phone. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he paused every now and then to wipe his face.

"Hurry up." The man barked.

"S-sorry."

When Luc was done he held the phone out to him.

"Look, here's the confirmation page. Please let us go," he pleaded.

The masked man stared at them both for a second and slowly took his gun away.

"Do one more thing for me, and take out your wallet. Look in the third pouch."

Luc opened up his wallet, and a look of confusion washed over his face. His eyebrows furrowed, and he frowned. Tucked in between two credit cards, was a playing card.

"Eight of spades?" Luc asked, bewildered.

"Was that your card?"

"Yes."

"Oh," The man smiled, "Looks like I don't need that much practice after all."

And then, Luc saw his chance. He quickly lunged at the attacker, and tried to make a grab for his gun, but he was too slow. The masked man pushed him down to the ground and twisted his arm around his back.

"You fucking bastard," He growled, "I told you not to try anything."

It was silent before the man slowly raised the gun and pointed it towards Kurt. The sound of the shot cut through the air, and then the bullet embedded itself in Kurt's chest. Blood spilled all over his silk chemise and he collapsed on the ground, legs sprawled out before him. Luc sobbed in anguish.

"Get the fuck out of here or I'll kill you too! Go! Fucking go!" The man screamed and kicked Luc's legs.

Luc quickly got up. Blood dripped down a fresh wound from his head. He gave Kurt once last glance before he sprinted out of the alleyway for his life. When he turned around the corner, the man waited, until the sound of his footsteps disappeared. Then, he took off the mask, crushed the phone underneath his foot, and began to clap.

"Bravo," Blaine laughed and helped Kurt up from the floor.

Kurt rolled his eyes and socked Blaine in the shoulder.

"Ow! What was that for?" Blaine frowned and rubbed his arm.

"For calling me a whore."

"Well, in my defense, you were pretending to be one for the past couple weeks."

"Whatever," Kurt grumbled as he flipped through the man's wallet before pulling out a wad of cash, "He's fucking loaded. Can you believe he only gave me five hundred Euros today? I'm worth much more than that."

"You sure are honey," Blaine swung his arm around Kurt's shoulders, "How'd you like my card trick?"

"It was decent."

"Decent? I've been trying to perfect that thing for months."

"Well, considering I slipped the goddamn card in his wallet, it wasn't that impressive. What was the point of that anyway?"

"To spice things up, I can't always be a boring mugger," Blaine explained, "Anyways, let's get out of here. Someone had to hear that gunshot."

"Fine, but you owe me a new dress. I can't keep ruining everything I wear with this fake blood you love so much."

Blaine laughed and kissed Kurt's cheek.

Then, they walked, arm in arm out of the alleyway, a suitcase in Kurt's hand, and a deck of cards in Blaine's.


End file.
